I Fall Out Of Grace
by dearmrsawyer
Summary: Sam is the only Winchester left. His path becomes darker utnil he turns his back on everythig Dean once asked. Spoilers up to 4x01. Any events that parallel season 4 are pure coincidence as this was planned in the hiatus between season 3 and 4.
1. Chapter 1

**I Fall Out Of Grace**

**Chapter 1**

Two weeks hadn't dulled the memory of Dean's death. Sam could still hear his brother's flesh tearing and his voice screaming out in agony. It had become the soundtrack of his day-to-day life. When Sam closed his eyes, all he could see was Dean's blood-stained face and vacant eyes printed in the blackness. His dreams were filled with a white-eyed woman. If he didn't know better, he would have thought it was Ruby. Sam did know better. In Sam's mind, that body was no longer Ruby. It was Her.

***

Bobby had eventually made it into the house. Prematurely, he began exclaiming the disappearance of Lilith's "neighbourhood demon watch squad", when he was cut short by what lay ahead.

Dean's shredded body in a pool of blood. Ruby lay beside him, hair splayed beneath her as blood trickled along the floorboard lines and soaked the blonde red. The younger Winchester leant forward, cradling the eldest, his posture broken. His shoulders shook and his hands were unsteady. His crying had silenced, but the tears fell relentlessly, blurring his vision as grief clouded his mind.

Bobby was sure his heart had stopped. His head grew light and he swayed on his feet for a second, before catching his balance and taking two shaky steps forward. Sam's eyes flickered to Bobby's feet; the hands gripping Bobby's head and shoulders twitched. But he couldn't pull away from the last of _Dean_.

The two were still for even God may not have known how long.. Frozen in time, Sam didn't see as his jeans were saturated, and Dean's bloody shirt soaked through a second time with his tears. The first pull to reality was the sound of footsteps in the house. Sam remembered the family. He even opened his mouth but nothing came out. Bobby was already leaving to investigate, and Sam remained with his brother's flesh.

It had taken five hours for Sam to simply move. Bobby had sent the family away; he had salted and burned Ruby's body before the first rays of sunlight glimpsed over the rooftops. When he came back for Dean, Sam's eyes stopped him in his tracks. The light was gone. The spark that was _Sam_ had diminished. Tears continued to silently slide down his beautiful face, and Bobby didn't have the heart to say what he ought.

_We've got to burn him, son._

He couldn't say it. The grief was too near – for both of them. Sam's eyes dropped back to his brother as he walked around and positioned himself at Dean's head. Bobby stood at Dean's feet, and together the two lifted the limp body and carried it out, a dark red trail lining their path and forever tainting the floors.

Sam drove the Impala with Bobby following behind. He tried to ignore the sound of a body thumping against the back of his seat.

Hours passed. By nightfall the next day they were at Bobby's. After Bobby collected a few added supplies with Sam waited stiffly in the driver's seat, they were off on the road again. Bobby kept glancing at Sam, sometimes inconspicuously, sometimes with a completely obvious stare, but Sam never returned the gesture. Bobby also noticed the absence of music, and looked down to see the car stereo turned off. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a flask and tried to drown the searing pain in his own chest. In his heart.

Bobby went for the matches. Sam went for the shovel. Bobby wanted to protest. Sam's face was enough. Bobby set the matches down and grabbed a second shovel, following Sam to the centre of the clearing and beginning to dig. The sun crept across the sky, hiding behind the clouds and dousing the land in semi-darkness. Sam's face became further shadowed, whether by the light or his thoughts, Bobby didn't know. All he knew was he had to try to talk some sense into Sam; he didn't want Dean to return as the very creature he had hunted most.

"Sam." His voice was hoarse from the extended silence. The final Winchester looked up at Bobby with an empty gaze. "This ain't the best-"

"No."

Bobby's heart faltered between beats at the sound of his voice. He hadn't heard Sam speak for almost a day. It was deeper – rougher – than he remembered.

"Dean wouldn't want-"

"_No_." This time his voice was almost fierce. "He'll need a body… once I save him." The final words were almost silent, but Bobby caught them. Sam turned his gaze back to the hole now four feet deep, and Bobby saw a flicker of something. Rage? Determination. _Revenge_.

He didn't know why, but at that moment Bobby felt as unsettling sensation fill his stomach. It was a feeling he would become well acquainted with in time.

Sam stood at the foot of the grave, listening to Bobby begin shovelling dirt back into the hole. As the earth smattered his brother's stained face, Sam felt the bile rise up in his throat and the retching sensation that told him he was about to vomit.

***

The clang of metal on metal rang out as Sam rummaged his hand through the toolbox in search of the perfect spanner. Sam admitted to himself that he probably wasn't the best judge of the perfect spanner, but he was working on that.

Sam was at Bobby's place; he had been since…

The last two weeks of Sam's life had been spent out here, underneath the Impala's hood. Of course, that didn't include the time Sam spent reading his way through Bobby's library. In the past year, the Winchesters had read dozens of books, and yet they had not conquered the entire collection. Sam didn't really care; he'd read every book he found for any hint of how to fill the hole that had began to grows two weeks ago.

The sun beat down from above, heating Sam's black shirt, and burning through to his skin. Wiping his brow, Sam seated himself in the shade of the Impala's front seat, swigging from a beer to cool off. Bobby's dusty, portable radio sat beside him playing country. That was all this damn antenna picked up. One glimpse at the car's stereo told him not to complain. At least country music didn't accompany enough baggage to fill the oceans. Sam closed his eyes to shut off that train of thought. His heart throbbed, aching, every time he thought about…

Fingering the amulet he didn't own strung around his neck, Sam felt his ribcage constrict, as if his heart wouldn't fit inside. It burned, and he took another gulp of beer to try and wash the heat away. Sam finally understood why his brother had lifted the Impala's hood everytime he was suffering heartache. He wasn't sure exactly how, but working on the Impala was the only way Sam had found to isolate his mind from the thoughts that plagued him at every moment of his life. And Sam was not only fixing the Impala, but teaching himself how. That required much more attention that doing something familiar.

Looking out across the caryard, something caught Sam's eye. He raised his stare to the edge of the property where he couldn't sworn he saw a flash of blue and brown. But he must have been mistaken. There was nothing but a tree line, waving in the breeze. He was sure he had seen a young… no. Maybe he should replace his beer with a glass of water.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

His eyes itched in the dim lamplight, and for the first time Sam wished Bobby would just catch up with the 21st century and upgrade already. Tearing his eyes from the yellowed, musky pages of a leather-bound book he had dug up earlier, Sam reclined and sunk into the lounge, sighing with fatigue. A glance at the clock told him he was closer to sunrise than sunset, and Sam resigned himself to sleep.

From the top of the stairs, Bobby saw the last source of light in his living room go out, and knew Sam was finally getting some sleep. Every night the boy had been up, reading well into the night. Even in bed, Bobby could hear the pages turning, and the eternal sigh of a man who suspected he would never reach his destination. There were even the nights when Sam didn't sleep at all. Bobby would wake to find same lamp on (despite the sunlight), the "to read" pile almost non-existent, and the "already read" pile twice as tall. The bags under Sam's eyes had become a permanent feature, ad the liquor bottle a permanent accessory.

***

Bobby stretched his aging limbs and rolled himself out of bed, rolling his shoulders back. He felt bones pop and crack into place; even resting wasn't as easy as it used to be.

Trudging downstairs, Bobby snuck his head around the corner to see Sam fast asleep on the couch, breathing uneasy and face awry in discomfort. Entering quietly to turn off the lamp Sam had left on, Bobby could tell Sam wasn't really relaxed. Poor boy hadn't been at ease since he crashed here three weeks go. But sleep was the closest Sam could get, so the older man let him be, moving off to make himself some breakfast.

Two hours on Sam woke violently, groaning and twisting into the couch. Bobby came running at the sound – he did ever morning – but he knew the drill by now. Bobby believed that as long as Dean was gone, Sam would always wake like that.

The thought of dean made Bobby's knees weak with loss, and he returned to the kitchen to sink down into a chair at the dining table.

"_Family don't end with blood, boy."_

Neither did pain.

The young Winchester found his way to the kitchen, putting some slice bread into the toasted and pulling milk out of the fridge. He poured himself a glass and sat down at the table without a word to Bobby. As he walked past, Bobby could smell the alcohol on Sam's breath – or was it his own? – and Bobby knew he couldn't let Sam suffer in silence forever.

_Say something. Talk to him. He can't live out his life this way. _

"Uh Sam…" Bobby sighed, easing his body forward as he leant his arms on the table. Sam looked up from his glass of milk, meeting Bobby's eyes. Everytime his gaze locked with Sam's, Bobby's heart gave out a little. He couldn't get past Sam's eyes; there was something… different. Dark. About him.

For a moment Bobby forgot that Sam was expecting him to speak, but he caught himself just in time for the stare to come off as concern rather than ill manners.

"Sam, I…" Bobby was amazed at how Sam's face hardened so quickly. His jaw clenched and his body tensed in anticipation of Bobby's words. A steely-grey replaced the stormy blue of his eyes, and Bobby faltered. "I uh, wondered if you'd seen Solomon's Key – the book. I need it for a job I got some buddies workin' on."

_Dammit, Singer._

Sam blinked slowly, his eyes boring into Bobby's mind and hidden thoughts. He go up to collect his toast, and Bobby dropped his head into his palms.

"Its on the coffee table. I'm done with it."

***

_Damn country music._

Sam tried to fight the urge to nod his head along – he didn't feel like enjoyment. In fact, he didn't really feel like being out here at all, under the sun with music filling the air. However Sam didn't have much of a choice. He was well-aware that he was almost done with Bobby's entire library, and Sam wasn't willing to face the facts that the man's entire book collection hadn't given him any answers. Dean still had no choice but to remain in Hell.

The mere thought of Dean's unchanging destiny made Sam want to throw up. He swallowed the sensation with a mouth-full of whiskey and turned up the radio. As much as he didn't want to hear it, the music drowned out his thoughts of hopelessness and frustration. In the back of his mind, one idea swirled, relentless. Sam knew Bobby wouldn't allow it. If it worked, Dean would kill Sam himself. There wasn't a soul who would support him, but Sam was nearing the point where he didn't care. He couldn't find a way to save Dean in books – maybe books weren't what it took.

***

The cold air sobered Sam slightly, diluting the effects of endless alcohol. The night sky stretched out above him, the heavens openly looking down on him. Although Sam suspected Heaven would turn its back on what he was about to do.

Gravel lodged itself under his fingernails as he pulled at the dirt, his hand finally hitting something solid. Sam pulled out the chest his brother had come to so long ago and opened it up, shoving an Fake ID into it. Sam reburied the box, standing tall and looking around. His walk was off, his steps uneven. His visions blurred sometimes, but Sam squinted, looking out in all directions. No one approached from any road, and Sam clenched his jaw, anger swelling in his chest, quickly rising up his throat.

He squeezed his eyes closed, about to scream, when a smooth and silky voice whispered from behind him.

"Samuel Winchester – its risky business being in your presence."

Sam whipped his head around, searching for the voice. There, a few metres back was a tall, slender blonde with eyes of a familiar shade.

"I knew there had to be more than one of you," he smirked, taking a step forward.

"Well we can't let one rogue cannon ruin the whole system now, can we?" she flashed a smile, the blood-red of her eyes fading to reveal a stormy blue. "Although I am surprised that it was you and not your dear brother who took one of us out. He's got a fire in him. Of course, its nothing compared to the fire he's living in."

Sam felt his hands begin to shake, and his heart sped up. His mind flashed to Ruby's nice stashed in his back pocket, but he didn't move.

"So what can I help you with, Sam?"

"I want Dean." Sam wasn't here to mess around. These demons had wasted enough of his time.

She almost looked surprised, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry Sam, that's going to be a little hard to arrange. Hell's got a pretty tight grip on dear old Dean. Besides, you don't have very much to offer."

"I have plenty to offer."

"Oh really?" Now she just looked amused. "And what would that be?"

"Me."

"You?"

"Take me. You don't need Dean."

"I'm sorry Sam," she said, half speaking, half laughing. "I don't think that's going to work. We won't get anything out of his deal."

Sam tried to keep his voice steady, a losing battle. "You'll get me."

"Sorry honey, its not good enough."

Sam's hand shot to his back pocket and he glanced back, pulling out Ruby's knife. He turned to face the demon again, but Sam was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Sam shelved the final book, swallowing the burning feeling of failure rising up his throat. Bobby's library – their most reliable source – had failed Sam in his time of desperate need. Beating his fist against the bookshelf, Sam ignored Bobby's prying eyes. The old man had witnessed Sam nearing the end of his collection, and Sam knew Bobby was on edge, wondering what Sam would do next. Truth is, _Sam_ didn't know what he going to do next. So he turned to his one escape when saving his brother became too much for his failing heart.

***

As far as Sam could tell, there really wasn't anything wrong with the Impala. In the days leading up to his death, Dean had worked on his baby, making sure he left her in mint condition. It made Sam's endless time under the hood somewhat pointless, but he didn't care. If Sam couldn't fix the Impala, he would learn how everything worked, so he would know when it broke. There had been a few instances over the past month when Sam had attempted being experimental, and in doing so actually done some damage. For the most part, he'd been able to right the wrongs and learn from them, but at least once he had needed to call Bobby to clean up his mess. Dean would have killed him. Would have.

As grateful as Sam was for the absence of classic rock – especially now that he would never hear Dean sing along – country music wasn't exactly what Sam would have chosen as a replacement. As the banjo solo kicked in, Sam decided enough was enough, and he pulled his head out to turn it off. Sam sighed in the fresh silence, looking up to relieve the pressure in his neck, when something caught his eye. Turning away from the blinding sun, Sam looked over to the tree line at the edge of Bobby's property. All thoughts of his potential insanity over the last two weeks vanished. _She was real_.

She didn't seem startled or thrown off now that Sam had seen her. On the contrary, she gave no reaction at all; she simply continued to stare at him. Sam couldn't think of anything to say or do, so he returned the stare, cocking his head to one side.

She had dark, wavy hair, and equally dark eyes. Small and slender, the girl wore jeans and a tight, black shirt with a long, silver chain. Sam was a little confused by her expression. She seemed… sad. Almost. Her face bore concern – wariness. And yet, she seemed to want to approach him. She had cocked one of her legs, leaning forward with arms tightly folder against her chest. Sam ran his eyes over that posture once again. There was something… so familiar…

Without warning, the girl took a step forward. Sam almost jumped, but his years of hunting had diluted his surprise towards sudden movements. She took a few more steps, and Sam didn't know what to do. Should he walk towards her? No. Why would he? He would wait and see what she was planning to do.

The distance between them shrank to little more than five metres before the girl stood still again. By now her posture had fallen; it was gentler, more submissive. However, her eyes had never left his. Sam adjusted his own stance, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes. He didn't understand what her motive was. Until she spoke.

"Sam."

_Ruby._

He could recognize that tone anywhere. Sam didn't think – he advanced quickly, causing Ruby to retreat as fear flooded her features. Sam clenched his jaw, spinning around to grab Ruby's knife from the front seat of the Impala as he strode forward. Whipping his body back around, ready to strike, Sam found himself alone.

"Sam!"

Bobby's voice cut through the tension hanging in the air, and Sam turned around to see the aged man eying him suspiciously. Sam realised he must look odd standing in a car yard alone, brandishing a knife, so Sam lowered the weapon and turned away.

"Dinner's ready if you're up for it."

"No thanks."

Bobby sighed to himself.

"You outta eat something. You've been out here all day."

Sam stopped moving, and Bobby tried to read his body language. It was impossible – the boy was closed off from the world. But it didn't matter, because Sam didn't have the energy to fight it.

"I'll be up in a minute."

Bobby nodded to himself, returning to the house. The Winchester packed up any tools he'd neglected to put in the toolbox, eventually setting everything down and silently making his way through the door Bobby held open. His head and eyes remained downcast, and Bobby noticed Sam had put the knife in his back pocket.

At the dinner table, Sam didn't meet eyes with Bobby once. Rather, he stared blankly ahead, squinted eyes and tensed muscles. Bobby had let this go once, but he couldn't hold out forever. He was afraid the old Sam Winchester may never return.

"Sam," he breathed, placing his cutlery down and hoping Sam gave him some sort of response. He couldn't stand talking to an empty shell every day. Sam's eyes flickered to Bobby's but he continued to down his final few bites. Bobby pushed on. "Sam, we need to talk. You can't just let yourself fade away. Its not what Dean would have wanted."

Sam stopped, raising cold eyes. Nobody had spoken Dean's name since the night he died. Sam had forgotten what it sounded like; it made his heart jump.

Bobby waited for Sam to speak, but the young man didn't seem like he planned to say a word, so Bobby continued.

"You've done nothing but bury yourself in books or under the hood of that car since you got here. I don't… like seeing you this way."

Sam's steely expression remained unchanged at the sentiment, but his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"You should do something. Get your mind off things –"

"Like what."

Sam's toneless voice almost made Bobby jump. He looked at Sam's icy face and realised he wasn't talking to an empty shell at all. Everything Sam had felt over last month was bottled up inside. Emotions simmered in Sam like a pot about to boil over, but Sam was keeping his lid shut tight. His eyes were rimmed red, his face no longer cleanly shaven and his hair unkempt.

Bobby didn't know what he meant – what Sam could do. What does a man do when he loses the last of his family? After so much loss, what's left to be done?

"You can't live like this, Sam," Bobby sighed.

Sam continued to stare at Bobby for a moment, and without warning pushed his chair out. Bobby flinched, sitting back, but Sam simply carried his empty dish to the sink, returning to work on the Impala before the day's light burned out.

Bobby heard the screen door close after Sam, and he pushed himself up, clearing his own plate. Grabbing a plastic bag from beneath the sink, Bobby walked around the kitchen, collecting the empty liquor bottles he'd gone through in the last few days. With the bag safely stored beside the backdoor and ready for the trash, Bobby pulled out a fresh whiskey and reached for the bottle opener.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam pushed himself upright, gasping for air. His hair and t-shirt were damp with sweat. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, Sam groaned. Sleep was Sam's escape from reality. Sleep was Sam's relief from pain. That was, until the nightmares kicked in. Even after two months, the nightmares were relentless, and Sam wondered if they would ever stop.

Sam was exhausted, It took hours for his dreams to finally wash over him and give him rest, but even they were plagued by Hell Hounds and Dean's screams and flames. It seemed no matter where Sam's mind was, there could be no escape.

Slumping back into a laying position again, Sam reached for the beer he had resting on the table beside him. It was warm and rather unsatisfying, but Sam wasn't one for the high life. Not for a long time. He stared at the ceiling, trying to vacate him mind, but each time the same face appeared before him, looming in the darkness.

Every since she'd last appeared, all Sam could think about was Ruby. _Why had she come? What could she want? _The longer he thought about her, the more troublesome his thoughts became. _Where had she been since the night of Dean's death? Was it possible she'd have news of Dean?_ There was no news she could carry that he would want to hear. His nightmares were vivid enough without hearing of Dean's not-so-well-being down below.

The mere thought of her made rage bubble up inside, swelling, pumping through him like oxygen. But rage alone did not inhabit Sam. There was something else, weaker, niggling at the back of his mind. There was a part of Sam that wished he'd heard Ruby out. Curiosity was a cruel beast, but powerful. Sam spent many night hours awake, wondering what had spurred Ruby's appearance. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but Sam hoped that wasn't the last he'd see of her.

***

Sam's lungs screamed for air. His eyes flashed open as he heaved, his uneven breath filling the silence of Bobby's living room. Wiping his forehead, Sam found it slick with sweat. He throat was scratchy, so he stood shakily, stumbling sleepily to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of water.

He drank deeply, his eyes peering through Bobby's faded curtains. The sun sat on the horizon, basking Bobby's yard in the gentle light of dawn. A soft breeze ruffled the trees, sunlight flashed between branches. There were no signs of life, except for a single form standing at the gate of Bobby's property.

Sam froze, staring at her as she stood silently. She didn't seem to have seen him yet, but she appeared to be waiting for something. Putting his glass down, Sam crept back to the couch, picking up Ruby's knife and slipping it into his back pocket. Glancing at the stairs to ensue Bobby wasn't watching in, Sam walked to the front door and unlocked it slowly. The aged key creaked, but Sam didn't think it was loud enough to stir the elderly man upstairs. Pulling the door open, Sam watched Ruby's slackened posture straighten at the sound. Once she could see him, she took a small step back, her eyebrows furrowing. Sam stood at the door for a moment, but Ruby didn't move any closer. He assumed after last time, she was probably a little more wary.

Sam felt in control. Her eyes flickered between him and the ground, and her hands grasped each other, fidgeting, Deciding he wouldn't let go of the upper hand, Sam began to stride intently towards her. He didn't seem threatening, but that didn't stop her flinching at his first step forward.

Two paces before the gate, Sam stopped abruptly. He stared down at Roby with stone eyes; her mouth was agape but she seemed either unable or unwilling to speak.

"What do you want, Ruby?: he asked, toneless. Her eyes returned to his.

"I… I want to talk."

Her voice had lost the aggressive tone Sam has grown to recognise. Like a horse now broken, she was subdued, yielding. This new body presented a completely new image of her.

"Talk about what?"

Truth be told, Sam wanted to talk as well. He wanted to know where she had been, what she was doing, what Lillith was doing, and if there was a way for her to salvage his hopes.

She didn't respond; it seemed she was being careful with words. Sam took the reigns.

"Why did you wait a month to come back?" he asked.

Ruby signed, finding her voice again. "You pulled a knife on me, Sam. I wasn't about to come running back. I thought you would have been ready – I was wrong. You needed more time."

"Ready for what?"

She pierced him with chocolate eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Ready to take Lillith down."

That caught Sam off-guard. She was back to help him? Even after he'd tried to kill her last two times he'd seen her?

"What are you talking about, Ruby? How am I supposed to trust you? I don't know where Lillith sent you when she took over your last body. I don't know where you've been for the last two months. You could be Lillith's most loyal minion for all I know."

"I am _not_ serving Lillith," Ruby said forcefully. "If I could take Lillith out myself, I would. But I can't; I'm not strong enough."

"So what do you want from me?" Sam narrowed his eyes, unclear of whether or not she'd given him reason to trust her.

"Don't you get it, Sam? I couldn't even stop Lillith hijacking the body I was wearing. No demon stands a chance against her. There's only one person who can destroy her. Didn't you ever wonder why you weren't affected by that white light she shot at you?"

Sam's mind reversed back to that blinding moment, and he remembered the shock adorned on Lillith's face, before she disappeared. Sam looked back at Ruby, who was staring up at him intently.

"Sam, you're the only one who can destroy her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Bobby grabbed his keys and some cash, passing Sam at the kitchen table. He mumbled something to the young Winchester about going on a grocery run and being back in about an hour. He didn't really see much point in waiting for a response; Sam probably wasn't listening anyway.

The old man closed the door behind himself, and Sam waited for Bobby's car to pull out of the yard and drive out of earshot. Finishing up his cereal and listening intently to ensure Bobby's engine was long gone, Sam returned his dish to the sink and left the house via the back door, making his way into the caryard.

His eyes scanned the broken vehicles, their rust preventing any metallic shine under the sun. Behind him, bushes rustled as a dark, petite girl stepped out to grace him with her presence.

"He's gone?" she asked right away, eyes glancing warily at the back door.

"Left not a moment ago," Sam replied flatly, not breaking eye contact with Ruby.

"Good," she nodded.

After Ruby's appearance yesterday, Sam had agreed to meet her again. They had cut their last discussion short once Bobby had woken, and Ruby promised to hide out until she and Sam got another private opportunity to talk. Bobby had been well aware of the part Ruby had played in the lives of the Winchesters over the last year. Neither she nor Sam believed it wise for Bobby to see her just yet; he already thought Sam was on his way to madness without the elderly man knowing about the discussions his guest was sharing with a demon.

Sam wasn't completely defenceless, however. He kept a constant eye on Ruby, treating everything she said with mild scepticism and questioning her every move. She seemed on the verge of frustration frequently, but the fact that she did not break was helping Sam lower his barriers.

"And how exactly am I supposed to be able to defeat Lillith? If she wanted, she could wipe me off the map in seconds."

"She tried that, Sam. Don't you remember? And her most valuable weapon bounced off you like rubber."

"So you're telling me that because that didn't work there's no other way she can kill me." It was less of a question that a cynical statement.

"No. I'm saying that the fact that her favourite method failed is enough for her to doubt any other tricks she's harbouring behind our backs."

"She could just rip me apart if she wanted."

"I doubt Lillith will be getting close enough to do that. She's probably set on keeping her distance until she knows what's what with you."

"So, what's that mean for us?"

"That means we have time," Ruby explained, stepping forward. He could see the familiar dance of determination and nerve in her eyes, despite the colour change. "Don't you see? She's not hunting you anymore. This is your chance to get a step ahead in the game without looking over your shoulder!"

Sam remained silent for a moment, mulling over the argument Ruby had put forward thus far. In truth, Sam wanted nothing more than to see Lilith die every painful death she had condemned others to, but Sam also knew that Dean would claw his way out of Hell if he learnt his brother was taking up ranks with a demon again.

"And how are we supposed to get ahead?"

"By making sure you do exactly what Lillith fears."

Sam cast his mind back to the morning of Dean's death. He could imagine this conversation mirroring the discussion they had shared in Bobby's basement. Ruby believed she could teach Sam. Teach him what, he did not know. But Dean's voice boomed in his head, and Sam wasn't sure he was ready to take this step.

"I don't see why you can't just learn whatever it is you're talking about. You're a demon – you should be able to–"

"I think you're missing the main ingredient, here." Ruby rolled her eyes, beginning to pace backwards and forwards before Sam. "I am only a demon. I have what she has, but on a weaker scale. You, however, have something different. You weren't given this… gift…" she raised her eyebrows as if unsure of how to describe it. "… by any old demon."

"So Yellow-Eyes was of a higher order–"

"Higher than you know."

Sam didn't believe he understood what she was getting it. "How high, then?"

"Don't you know what Azazel was, Sam?"

He was about to answer 'demon', but why ask for such an obvious answer? He cut himself off, tipping his head.

Ruby softened her look, stilling as she turned to look at him. "He was a Fallen Angel."

Sam felt himself gape but made no effort to hide his disbelief. In all the time he'd spent attempting to research and learn what he had gotten involved with, how had Sam managed to miss such an integral piece of information?

"A fallen…"

"He was no ordinary demon. And he sure wasn't any old angel either. There aren't too many of his kind floating around, and that makes what you have even more of a big deal. What you've got, Sam, is a power unlike these two forces. You're _clearly_ different from angels–"

"Thanks."

"–but you're not like demons either."

Part of Sam desperately wished Dean had been here to hear this. He heart dropped a few notches, but he tried to come back to Ruby's point.

"You're the only one with this potential."

Sam remembered the other children, his mind reminiscing of a time when he hadn't been the only one. He remembered Yellow-Eyes explaining that he only wanted one. Sam remembered a great deal of what Yellow-Eyes had said.

"What about the other generations?" Sam suddenly blurted out. All this fresh information was feeding his curiosity. "Yellow– Azazel said there were other generations."

"Let's just stick to what we know," Ruby deflected, and Sam tried to move beyond this roadblock.

Behind the adrenaline that now filled Sam's body at the prospect of destroying Lillith, guilt prodded at his thoughts, reminding him of one who would readily die again to prevent any of this happening.

Ruby waited in the silence, allowing Sam to absorb everything. She looked on as his expression changed from one of curiosity and anticipation, to uncertainty and remorse.

"It's too late to go back to what he would have wanted," Ruby said in such a gentle voice that had she not been standing right there, Sam would have looked for the speaker. Empathy played on her features, and Sam thought again of Dean. Dean's fear. Dean's worry. How hard Dean had fought this. How Dean would have done anything to stop it. How Dean was no longer here.

Unexpected fury burned in his heart and mind as he momentarily balled his fists. Every unsure sensation in his body was overridden by his desire for revenge. Vengeance drowned out every emotion, and all Sam could think of was that he might be the only one who could stop Lillith. With frightening ferocity, Sam realised he _wanted_ it to be that way. Sam wanted Lillith to die at his hands, and his alone. He would not leave that privilege to anyone else; it was his.

His steeled look returned, and Sam raised his eyes to Ruby's, who stood in silence.

"Let's do it."


	6. Chapter 6

The dark, dingy basement was less than hospitable, but Sam and Ruby didn't require quality at a time like this. All they needed was privacy.

Bobby was out stocking up on a few protection herbs and supplies he had run low on. Lucky thing too, because he sure as Hell would have heard the discussion going on beneath his very own floorboards.

Hours had gone by unnumbered, and still Ruby paced, talking to Sam as he tried with all his mind to do her bidding. He was beginning to get frustrated; he wasn't seeing any results.

"I don't know about you, but I don't think anything's happening."

"Would you expect it to work with an attitude like that?" she snapped. Ruby was getting just as sick of Sam's cynicism as he was of her instructions.

"You were going to teach this to me in one day? If we haven't gotten anywhere after this long, how would it have worked back then?"

"Your mind's clogged now. You're distracted by… the events of late." Ruby worded herself carefully, beginning to pace in circles around him again. "If you'd learnt it then, you would've been more focused. Now try again."

Sam pouted, huffing and closing his eyes.

"Try to remember how you felt when you had your visions. Knowing that you had seen what was coming – that connection with something beyond your understanding. Remember what you felt that day Max Miller was about to kill Dean. The power you produced to move that cupboard."

Sam squeezed his eyes back, reliving each moment; being shut in Max's closet, seeing Jess die, the death of Andy's doctor and mother, Monica suspended over Roby's crib. Despite all his efforts and the beads of sweat that had begun to form on his forehead, Sam felt as powerless as ever.

"Sam, you're not concentrating."

He clenched his jaw. "I _am_ concentrating. You're not exactly helping, you know."

"Not helping? You wouldn't know where to begin if it wasn't for me."

"Doesn't look like we've begun anything from where I'm standing," he replied. All the anger Dean had ever expressed towards Ruby flowed up inside Sam and his brother's feelings invaded his own. His blood pumped in his ears as he tried to think of all the times he had used powers, but all he could remember were Dean's words.

_The second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon you go for the holy water, you don't chat._

_Why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?_

_She's messing with your head. God knows why, that's who they are!_

He couldn't hear Ruby's words clearly anymore; all he could hear was Dean's refusal to ever accept an allied demon. Sam couldn't focus, and he didn't feel an ounce of psychic ability within himself.

His anger peaked, and quite suddenly Sam felt a sharp stab of pain in his temples. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but Sam held his head, despite the fact that there was no pain left.

"Sam?" Ruby asked as he gasped. He didn't respond, simply shaking his head and closing his eyes again. Ruby shrugged it off and began pacing once more.

"What did you think of after you woke from a vision? What was it that made you realise you'd just seen the future?"

Sam listened to her less-than-gentle voice, trying to recall all that she asked; he wondered what that momentary headache had been all about. His thoughts overlapped with his memories and he saw himself lying sweaty on a hotel bed, then buckled over in Dean's arms, then crying out as the Impala rumbled all around him.

Just as abruptly as last time, Sam felt as if his head was about to explode; this time, however, he noticed a change in atmosphere too. The sensation disappeared almost immediately and he opened his eyes, turning to see Ruby in mid-step and looking rather perplexed – her mouth agape.

"What?" he asked, touching his temples tentatively.

She took a second to answer. "You stopped me." Her eyes rose to meet his, and although Sam didn't understand what she meant, he could see the hint of a smile creeping onto her face.

"I what?"

"_You_ stopped me. Finally; looks like you're not a lost cause after all."

Sam realised at that moment that he spent a lot of his time with Ruby unsure of whether he should be offended or flattered.

"Let's try it again," she demanded, and began tracing her path around him.

_Obviously not an early celebrator_. Sam closed his eyes, trying not remind himself of the feelings he used to have after every vision. Just as Sam connected pain with powers, his mind swelled, his temples throbbed and his hands flew to his forehead again. Behind him, silence fell as the sound of Ruby's heels halted, and he opened his eyes to see her standing in exactly the same position she had been in last time.

Breathing deeply, Sam allowed himself his first smile in weeks; stalking over to the mouldy desk by the wall, he grabbed his bottle of water. Ruby took a moment to shake off the effects of being stilled, and leant herself against the wall.

"We've got a long way to go so don't get too high and mighty about yourself."

Sam could feel a soft, lingering throb at the back of his mind, but after the headaches he'd suffered from his visions, this was nothing. He ignored Ruby's comment, expecting nothing less from her. She wasn't one for warm, fuzzy feelings and comforting compliments. If Sam saw her as anything over the next two months, it was as his drill sergeant. Sam didn't care. He was one step closer to eliminating Lillith from the game, and he was willing to follow a demon's every order to get it done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Time seemed to stretch as one day shifted into the next, hours of the night suddenly turning to morning and sunlight becoming a rarer part of Sam's day. For almost two weeks, Ruby had visited Sam nightly and trained him further – advanced his skills. Sam couldn't notice the day-to-day change, but on the tail end of a fortnight, Sam realised he had gone from having a dormant ability, to being able to command Ruby with ease. Once he had even caused her pain. Ruby seemed happy with his progress, but believed the next step wouldn't be possible if Sam stayed where he was.

"I think its time you got out of here," Ruby said one night after Sam had released her from his hold. Sam swallowed a mouthful of water, sitting himself down to rest his legs.

"Leave Bobby's place?"

"Its getting more suspicious that you're exhausted all day. And we're certainly not going to be able to bring demons in here."

Sam had always known it would lead to that point, but the statement startled him nonetheless. He had been so focused on developing himself that he had forgotten the next step completely.

"Besides, you two barely talk anyway."

Sam had to admit Ruby was right about that. Each man had limited himself to internal grieving, and although alcohol bottles littered the house and both could see each other's pain, neither could bring themselves to break the bond of silence. Bobby believed Sam didn't want to hear what he had to say, and Sam knew nothing Bobby said would dissuade him from his chosen path. Mulling over Ruby's words, Sam sensed she was right; he couldn't stay here forever.

Ruby left soon after for the night, laving Sam to regenerate his strength by getting some sleep. Sam checked his watch. Bedtime: 4:53am. He was early.

***

Sam spent the next day collecting his things and ensuring they would be ready for him to leave as soon as possible. He was aiming for the next day; he knew he would have to bring it up with Bobby beforehand. He owed Bobby more than leaving unannounced. In any spare time he managed to get, Sam focused on exercising his ability. He wanted to strengthen mentally. He flexed his mind, feeling power swell and recede. His temples throbbed gently, but Sam was getting better at ignoring it.

Dinner was a silent affair. Sam would always thank Bobby, or occasionally took the responsibility of making a meal upon himself to give the elder a break. Beyond this, however, no discussion crossed the steaming table. Despite this tradition, and the rift that had developed between then, Sam knew tonight he had to speak up. Sam was indebted to Bobby in more ways than one, and the feeling of guilt that stirred deep within convinced him that this was the best way to do things. Swallowing his pride and a mouthful of food all at once, Sam gave it his best shot.

"I got some recent weather reports for Memphis," Sam said with a nod towards his laptop in the other room. Bobby was startled out of the silence, taking a moment to process what Sam had said. Sam didn't wait for a reaction, pressing on. "There've been a few electrical storms in the area lately – thought I'd check it out for demon activity."

In all the years Bobby had known the Winchester, more often than not he didn't know how to reply. Sam didn't say anything about leaving permanently, but Bobby knew better than to put such high hopes on the situation. He watched Sam scrape up the last dregs of food, the young man not once raising his eyes.

"You got the supplies you'll need?" was all he could muster to say.

Sam nodded, pushing back from the table and clearing his plate. "I'll be set tomorrow," he muttered, and left the room. His readiness caught Bobby off-guard, but Sam's business earlier in the day suddenly made perfect sense. He wanted desperately to talk Sam out of it and convince him to stay, but as he took a long swig of his beer, Bobby caught himself. There was nothing more stubborn than a Winchester.

***

Frosty air seeped into the house through any crevice it could find. Sam was up early, prepared to leave as soon as he could. He didn't want to give Bobby much of a chance to stop him, so he planned on farewelling his old friend as soon as the latter woke. Ruby had planned to wait for him a few hundred metres down the road so Bobby wouldn't see her.

The pale morning seemed grim, but complimented Sam's mood perfectly. A part of him wanted to leave now and get a move on. But his basic Sam instincts told him he couldn't. The Dean in the back of his mind that told him what his top priority _should_ be, and demons did not come first.

The stairs creaked. Sam twisted his head around to see Bobby's boots descending. Releasing the curtains from his grasp, his picked up his bags and met Bobby in the hallway. Bobby looked him up and down with thin eyes, nodding slowly.

"Looks like you're all set," he mumbled, barely coherent.

Sam nodded in return, leading them both to the front door. Once out in the yard, Sam threw his things into the Impala and turned back briefly.

"Thanks for everything, Bobby." Sam couldn't bring himself to make eye contact, speaking to the soil beneath his feet.

"My door's always open."

Unwilling to reply, Sam climbed into the Impala, starting the ignition. He relished in the familiarity of the engine's hum. He hadn't heard such a sweet sound in over two months. Sam met eyes with Bobby for barely a second, pursing his lips and reversing smoothly out of the yard. Avoiding the rear-view mirror once his eyes were set on the road, Sam pulled the Impala out and bid Bobby's place farewell. Despite the eventually monotony that had developed, there was an undeniably comfortable feeling with staying at his house.

_You can't avenge Dean in the warmth of a friend's living room_, he told himself. His eyes scanned the road ahead. A small figure stood on the side of the road fifty metres on, leaning on a picket fence with a stance he recognised. Upon reaching Ruby, he stopped to let her in.

"So where are we really headed?" Sam asked, his eyes trained straight ahead.

"Idaho Falls," Ruby answered in a heartbeat.

And Sam found the nearest exit.

***

Night fell quickly. The streets of suburban houses became repetitive and indistinguishable under the cover of darkness, but Ruby had the address in her hand.

Before long, the Impala was sitting outside a cream, single-story house with a once-lush garden and overgrown lawn. The gravel path crackled beneath their feet signalling the arrival of strangers, however the absence of a vehicle in the driveway told them it was most likely nobody was home. Sam picked the lock easily, pushing open the door and stepping lightly onto the floorboards.

Upon entering the house, Ruby walked right into the loungeroom to the right of the entrance hall. She ripped back the African rug in the centre of the floor. From his bag, Sam pulled a can of spray paint and began creating a large Devil's Trap. Ruby kept an eye on the window, watching out for any changes in the street. Time stretched as Sam completed his task and lowered the carpet to conceal the trap properly.

"Its showtime," Ruby said from behind Sam. He turned to see headlights illuminating her face through the drawn curtains. Together they walked further into the house, hiding themselves around the corner in a dingy kitchen. Short, quick breaths allowed the house to fall into silence, broken only by the scraping of a key in a lock. Sam rest his back against the wall, glancing down at Ruby, whose mouth hung slightly open and eyes were narrowed in the direction of the loungeroom.

The first footsteps of entry could be heard, accompanied by the clatter of keys falling onto a shelf. The door shut easily as floorboards creaked under continued footfalls. Seconds later, the steps became muffled, and eventually they halted. He had reached the rug.

"What the –?"

Sam and Ruby stepped out from around the corner, Sam facing the demon head-on, Ruby positioning herself a little way back in the shadows. Surprise dawned on the demon's face, rapidly replaced by the characteristic smirk all demons bear so effortlessly.

"Well well, young Sam Winchester. I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you around this neck of the woods." He cocked his head to the side to see past Sam. "Ah, the Traitor."

Ruby stayed silent, eying the demon coldly. Sam leant down and pulled back the corner of the carpet, revealing a sector of the Devil's Trap. The demon didn't show any reaction, one eyebrow raised as Sam straightened up again. Ruby pushed off the television cabinet, coming forward beside Sam.

"You ready?"

His mind throbbed in anticipation. "Let's do this."

Darkness clouded his vision as Sam closed his eyes. With one hand outstretched, he began to get a feel for the energy in the room. Air felt light, the water in the fish tank heavy, but something impure pulsed in front of him. A dense blackness filled the room and Sam began to push with his mind. His fingers began to feel longer, the blackness closer. It was contained in that human body; he needed to get It out.

Sam's concentration waned as the demon laughed, a mocking cackle. The demonic energy flowed with pleasure as pressure began to build in Sam's mind, and pain replaced power. Trying desperately to keep one hand raised towards the demon, Sam clasped his head in the other.

Pain continued to mount in Sam's head, and he dropped his first to his head as well. He felt something grasp his arm as the demon's laughter overtook his mind; he thought his head was about to burst.

Sam tried to open his eyes but the darkness pulled him in, swallowing his consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam's body felt heavy. His head still ached. Opening his eyes, found his vision still blurred. His fingers twitched and he blinked a few times in an attempt to focus his eyes. There came a malicious laugh from a source out of eyeshot, followed by hasty footsteps and a deep breath. A dark shape loomed above his head, and it took a minute for Sam to recognise it as Ruby.

"About time you came to. It's been almost half an hour."

If the pain had not been so great, Sam would have been humoured that she was annoyed, not concerned. She stepped back, allowing him to sit up and earn himself a head spin. That same, cruel laugh pierced his ears again. Looking across the room, Sam saw the demon they had trapped, stuck within the Devil's Trap.

"You overwork yourself, Winchester? Word Below was that you were soft. Although I did think you would have had more than that in you. I can't see you as much of a leader–"

"Shut up," Ruby snapped irritably, silencing the demon, but earning a snarky grin in return. Sam held his head in both hands, squeezing his eyes shut in one attempt to ease the headache. His face and hair were slick with swear. Pushing his hair back, Sam announced he was going to get a drink and left for the kitchen.

Once Sam was gone, the demon spoke to Ruby again.

"Don't think you won't get what's coming to you. Lilith's got a few new toys to test out on you Downstairs – a spot reserved for the greatest traitors." His black eyes glittered in the moonlight. Ruby ignored him, following Sam into the kitchen.

Sam was bent over the sink, his hands gripping the bench tightly.

"We don't have to do anymore tonight–" Ruby began.

"I'll get it," Sam interrupted; the muscles in his back and shoulders visibly tensed. He pushed off the sink, his hair hanging in his shadowed eyes.

Ruby looked him up and down. "I think we should do a little more practise before you try this again."

"I'll _get_ it," he repeated forcefully. Ruby wanted to argue back, but if there was anything she'd learnt from her time with Sam, it was that Winchesters did not negotiate.

A distantly familiar sound reached Sam's ears – his cell. It had been so long since he'd been called; he almost didn't recognise the tone as his own. Pulling the phone from his jacket pocket, Sam flipped it over to read the caller ID. Sam's wasn't hard to understand. His eyes fixated on the screen until the phone rang out, and then he pocketed it once more. His eyes wandered over the floor because he knew that Ruby could read him.

"You know, you can't ignore him forever," Ruby sighed.

"I haven't got anything to say to him."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. And that was the same when you were staying with the man, but at least then he knew you were alive."

Ruby had a point and Sam knew it. But now wasn't the time to admit that a demon was more right than him.

"Let's get on with this." Sam walked past her into the loungeroom where the demon was waiting.

Sam faced the dark entity, standing at the edge of the rug and flexing his knuckles. Ruby re-entered behind Sam, taking her place in the window. The demon looked from Ruby's silhouetted figure to Sam's raised hand and rolled his eyes.

"Again? Boy you just don't know when to let up. There ain't no way you can get rid of–"

But Sam wasn't listening anymore. He sank back into the depths of his mind where all he could do was _feel_. Energy waves washed over him and his fingers twitched as if sparked by electricity. He felt the demonic power in front of him – actually felt it – as if his very fingertips were stretching out into spindly, smoky appendages. Again, Sam felt the barrier between himself and the demon. Flesh prevented him access. Sam needed to get inside.

Pain pulsed, beginning to swell again, but Sam wasn't going to give in this time. He pushed, power emanating from his body, through his hand and finally toward a passage he had found – the host's throat – leading him directly to the demon. Reaching in, Sam felt the stone cold, fluid-like smoke of the demon, and enclosed it within his own power, imprisoning the monster in his grasp.

It resisted.

Sam smiled mentally – this demon had no idea of his ability. He pulled; his head felt like it was about to split. His free hand came to rest against his forehead, as he pulled harder, fighting.

His fingertips strained, their spiritual counterparts clasping down tight. Something cold trickled down his upper lip. He drew the force back up the passage he'd found, and he could hear retching across the room. The demon spilled forth out of the victim's mouth, floundering around within the Devil's Trap as if suffocating.

"Finish it, Sam." Ruby's voice was the last prod he needed to muster the final strength necessary. Sam drew his fingers inwards to the palm of his hand, balling his fist as the demon burst into flame and spontaneously combusted before them. The room lit up – red and orange dancing on the walls – before darkness swallowed the light and the room returned to its grey pallet. A wave of energy burst from Sam's body as the final licking embers went out, and there was a hissing screech of evil as the demon disappeared beyond this world.

The gentle ache of his temples receded, Sam opened his eyes; the rug held an unconscious body, the carpet showing no signs of damage. Sam instinctively rushed forward, picking the man up with both hands and laying him down on the couch. When his fingers managed to find a pulse, he turned to Ruby, a grin playing on his face.

She returned the sentiment. "Looks like we've got a shot after all."


	9. Chapter 9

The road stretched out before them, inviting them. No music. The Impala had been silent for months now, and Sam wasn't planning on trying to create a new atmosphere; that would just be insulting. Usually time in the Impala was spent either discussing hunts, sitting in silence, or allowing Sam rest when Ruby was behind the wheel. Sam let her drive; he preferred being able to wake up ready for a hunt, rather than sleeping in a motel, only to drive for hours the next day and postpone hunting. That would only allow his mind to wander, and lately Sam's mind had been the great threat for himself.

"How's your head?: Ruby's firm voice shattered the absence of sound.

"Its fine. They're not as bad anymore." The headaches came with every job, but he was getting better, and in turn the pain was beginning to lighten. Sam had become so desensitized – used to the pain – that when he didn't feel anything, he felt an odd sort of void.

"You'd be phasing it out by now. The more we exercise your mind, the easier it will become. Soon you won't have to strain at all."

For a month now Sam had been exorcising a demon every two or three days. Sometimes Roby located flocks, and Sam would work his way through them all, enduring taunts and promises to great his brother once Sam sent then Below.

Ruby had decided to take a small break and let Sam regroup for about a week. They were both quite satisfied with the progress made so far, but Sam was relishing a chance to let his mind rest. No, he didn't have nosebleeds or pass out anymore, but he had only been doing this for a month. It was a relatively new process for his mind to endure, and it would taste a like to say it hadn't filled his head with tension.

***

Darkness surrounded the little two-star motel, filling the rooms and caressing the sleeping visitors. Sam slept soundlessly atop a bed he'd not bothered to make, his arms wrapped instinctively around a pillow he'd buried his head into. Across the room, Ruby sat at a dining table, watching him. Ruby may be a demon, she may have been a demon for a very long time, but Ruby could still appreciate the afflictions of the human heart. Sam had lost so much in his short life, and although Ruby put on a tough face to keep him in shape, careful to make sure any residue of emotion she had didn't slip out, Ruby could see that loss. It played on Sam's face, in his features and posture. Every movement he had, every decision called. _Everything_ reflected his past. It wasn't an easy thing for a demon to do, and there weren't many who had hung onto the ability, but Ruby felt for Sam. She knew what this life had cost him, and Sam hadn't asked for any part in this life. Sam Winchester deserved everything he didn't have.

Sighing deeply, Ruby stood up and grabbed some cash, making her way over to the door. Sam would be hungry when he woke and the fridge held nothing but whiskey. The gas station a few minutes back should have something suitable.

She slipped out the door and a few minutes passed before the hunter stirred from his slumber. Sam stretched his long limbs, listening to his bones pop and crack with wear. Rolling over onto his back, Sam noticed the motel was empty. He wasn't worried though. Ruby often disappeared to collect food or get tips on possible hunts, Sam relished in the feeling if an adequate mattress – it had been too long. It was clearly night, and he wandered how long he'd been asleep.

As always, Sam tried to dull his conscious mind and prevent it entering dangerous territory. In a swift movement, he swung his legs off the bed and headed for the fridge, pulling out a liquor bottle. It was seconds before he was in, sipping generously. Loose strands of hair blocked thin strips of vision – it had been months since he'd had a haircut. He had already been in need of one by the time Dean left him. _Dean_.

The problem with drinking sorrows away is that the effects of alcohol are rather ambiguous. It has the power to drown out emotion and interfere with pain. And it also knows how to bring it all to the surface, allow it to simmer and boil in the mind. It was a mistake Sam had often made, and not yet learnt from.

Dropping himself heavily back into the bed, Sam fingered he bottle in his hands. Dean's face and voice swam in his head. His brother's hopes, wishes, _fears_. Sam had not forgotten any of it, despite his attempts to suppress such memories. Another swallow couldn't stop any of it coating every thought.

It wasn't long before there was nothing but dregs swirling around the bottom of the bottle. Sam sat with his elbow leaning on his knee, his head in his hands. His eyes were itchy. Dropping the bottle onto the floor so he could wash his face in the bathroom, he welcomed the feeling of cold water soaking his face. The hotel towel had been washed so many times that all softness has been sucked out of the material. The lights flickered, and Sam raised his eyes to his own reflection in a dingy mirror. His hair was long and unkempt as expected; he still shaved but almost carelessly. He had the odd scratch here or there. Permanent bags hovered beneath his eyes and his shoulders hunched forward. Sam stared long and hard, evaluating himself – what he was, what he had become. Dean's memory was still close.

_If only Dean could see me now._

Sam twisted the corners of his mouth, hands gripping the edges of the sink. A feeling of revulsion stirred deep within him. He wasn't sure where it sprung from – the depths of his stomach, somewhere in his chest, maybe even his heart. Sam looked at himself, and he saw everything Dean had feared and hated about his little brother.

The hotel room door creaked open and Sam straightened up, clenching his haw as his eyes narrowed. Ruby's heels could be heard walking around in the next room and a few things clattered onto the kitchen bench.

Sam re-entered the main room, watching Ruby stop as he caught her eye. Her steps fell short; she furrowed her eyebrows and turned towards him slowly. He didn't say anything to her, just walked deeper into the room.

"You did this." He spoke softly, but his voice was rough. Ruby tipped her head in confusion, her face falling into the tough, aggressive expression she worse whenever she was attacked. Her eyes fell to the bottle lying on the floor, the last of its contents sitting against the glass and too few to spill out. Ruby rolled her eyes, picked up the bottle and sat it on the bedside table.

"We've got to work on this," she said in a flat tone whole taking a seat back at the dining table.

Sam didn't react to anything she said or did, but simply continued watching with intense eyes. Ruby looked back, raising an eyebrow in indication that she was waiting for whatever he had to say.

"You made me this way," he breathed, taking a step towards her. "You turned me into everything Dean hated. My own brother would hate me now, and its all your fault," he spat. Sam towered over Ruby, now only a metre away, and Ruby stood up against him.

"Sam, this is the only way for you to defeat Lillith. Dean's not here–"

"_Don't_ say his name," Sam hissed, inching closer.

Ruby took a few steps back into the middle of the room, her face clouding with anger as he continued. "I should never have listened to you; you've made me into a monster."

"You should appreciate what I've done for you! I saved you from the pointless existence you were falling into and gave you a purpose." Ruby took slow steps towards Sam as she spoke to him. You should thank me."

Sam raised a hand light lightning, cutting Ruby's breath short. Ruby was frozen, legs planted between steps on the carpet. She couldn't even look down. Her eyes were wide, while Sam's narrowed further.

"You're nothing but a demon, just like the rest of them." Sam opened his palm, twisting his hand to the side and Ruby would have doubled over if she could, pain flaring up all through her body. "I should have listened to Dean and killed you when I first had the chance." He flexed his fingers and Ruby gasped. Her coughing echoed off the walls. Sam straightened and looked down at Ruby with cold eyes. The familiar feeling of energy coursed through his body and he sent his own power out in waves that hit Ruby over and over, as if he was throwing punches. The hunt of a sadistic smile caught the corner of Sam's mouth as he flexed his fingers, pushing towards Ruby.

Her eyes glowed with fear. Her mouth fell wide as she gave a retch, her head flew forward, shadowing her face with dark hair. She retched again and a whisper of black smoke swirled inside her mouth.

Sam closed his eyes, letting his aura pulse and grow. Rage poured into him and he pushed out, listening to Ruby retch louder, swallowing his power.

"Sam…" The voice was weak, pleading. Sam opened his eyes, holding his grip firmly to see Ruby panting. She was looking at him with despairing eyes; it was a look he had never seen before. "I'm just… helping you…"

The last three and a half months flashed through Sam's mind – everything Ruby had taught him, everything she had done. He was exorcising demons; he wasn't being a monster, but getting rid of them. What he was doing now – _this_ would make him the monster.

Ruby fell to the ground as Sam released his grip. His hand dropped to his side and he watched her struggle to breathe evenly again. Her hand rubbed her own throat delicately. Sam could already feel a mixture of guilt and worthlessness wash over him as he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

The dark entity squirmed and writhed under his grasp, but he overpowered it with ease. Within seconds the demon was free if its fleshy home, and screeching the sounds of pure evil. Sam allowed a small smile to grace his face as he threw the stain back to its place of birth.

Sometimes the victims lived, other times they didn't. When they didn't, Ruby helped Sam dig a ditch into which they could bury the salted and burned body, giving it eternal rest. Their work had become much more systematic – more of a process they would mimic on each case.

Ruby followed Behind Sam. She followed him into the hotel room, ate when he ate and feigned rest as the hunter slept in the next bed. It had been two weeks, but there was not reason for Sam to forget he had the ability to condemn her to the ultimate damnation she had once suffered. Sam was much better than he used to be – stronger and faster. Ruby believed that the only reason Sam had not managed to send her back to Hell last time was that he was slow enough to hesitate. Today, Sam was done in no more than a minute, and Ruby didn't doubt that with practise he would only get faster.

These circumstances gave he illusion that Sam Winchester was hr master, and although neither thought of their relationship in such terms, Sam had the power any master held: power over her life. Although it was against her nature and will, Ruby had taken on some form of obedience and submission towards Sam. It was apparent to them both that he was in control.

***

Sam woke to find himself alone in the musty hotel room, hints of sunlight splaying across the greyed carpet. With a yawn and a stretch, Sam washed and dressed, clearing the room and checking out. He would wait for Ruby by the car. Outside in the morning air, Sam closed his against the chilly breeze, feeling its weight – or rather, how weightless it was. He could _feel_ energy much better now. Everything had an energy – air, water, earth, people. He could find the density and darkness in them all. Demons were the darkest and most dense of all, and Sam could locate them much easier now. The limits of his mind had broadened. He could only sense one such being at the moment, but he had felt her presence so often that Ruby now felt different from others – more familiar, less dark.

"The room's cleaned out and packed?"

Sam swivelled around from his position on the Impala's hood and saw Ruby sauntering towards him. He nodded.

"Good, 'cause we've got some demons to hunt."

Sam jumped off the head without question, positioning himself in the driver's seat as Ruby slid in beside him. He caught the bag of scones she'd picked up from the local bakery, biting into one and asking, "Where to?"

Ruby hesitated but for a second, before answering. "Pontiac, Illinois."

She saw him stiffen ever so slightly, pausing between chews, but Sam tried to shrug off the memory and pulled out of the carpark. Ruby kept her eyes to herself, and let Sam believe his flinch had gone unnoticed, but Ruby knew from the moment the whispers of the demons' location reached her ear, that everything Sam had tried to hard to bury in his mind would not lay forgotten in the town where Dean was buried.

***

The was just appearing over the low skyline by the time they reached Pontiac, settling into a peculiar hotel with animal print on the walls and a severe lack of lighting.

Sam hadn't said too much, and Ruby didn't blame him. He didn't have much incentive to speak so she decided she'd be practical and explain what she knew.

"So we got to Tennessee a few days too late to catch these guys. But these demons only arrived in town a few hours before I heard. I doubt they're in such a rush that they'll bolt this quickly. Besides, you know as well as me that when demons travel in packs, unless they're being threatened, they like to settle in."

Sam nodded, but judging by his empty face Ruby knew in a few hours he wouldn't remember a word she said. She wasn't going to push the matter, especially not with his memories so close and beer in the fridge.

Ruby sat on the couch beside Sam, pulling a piece of pizza from the box for herself. She didn't know if it was this room or this town, but there was a weird vibe in the air. Like the uncertain sensation right before you realise it's a stomach ache. There was something unsettling about this place; she wondered if Sam felt it too. Looking over at him, he seemed oblivious.

After a few hours of sleep, Sam and Ruby returned to the Impala in the late afternoon and headed out for a drive around town. If they came within range of any demons, Sam would know. They roads weren't busy, and neither was Sam's mind. Ruby drove, giving him the opportunity to concentrated on his surroundings, but nothing had cropped up on his radar.

"No sign?"

"None."

Ruby screwed up her face in confusion. "I don't understand."

Sam eyed the people on the sidewalk. He couldn't even feel _them_.

"There's something weird about this town," he mused aloud, squinting as they drove along a street facing the setting sun.

"Can you feel anything like demons at all?"

"I can't feel… anything. Not the people, the woods just outside town, not even the air. And I _know_ all those things are there. There's something else… something blocking the energies of everything else."

"What do you mean?"

"Its like a blanket; its covered up every other energy in town. Its powerful."

"Are you sure its not the demons? It could be a while bunch of them."

"No; this is different. This doesn't have the same tine as demons. Its… light. There's no darkness at all, and even air holds more density." Sam rubbed his forehead, relaxing his mind and releasing the energy from his thoughts. He'd never felt anything like it. His head began to throb gently.

Ruby suggested retiring for the evening, less out of concern for Sam than the fact that the unusual presence all around them was a little too foreign for her liking. After picking up a greasy dinner that Sam regretfully thought Dean would approve of, they returned to the hotel room.

***

Sam had insisted they return to the streets after having rested and eaten their fill. However, once he woke he realise he had in fact fallen asleep and slumbered right through the night. Although annoyed that he had squashed his own plan, Sam was satisfied with staking out the town today.

The sound of the shower in the next room disappeared, and Sam decided that a shower didn't sound like a bad idea. While collecting his things, Ruby exited the bathroom, half-dressed with dripping hair. An odd sight to outsiders, yes, but their relationship was such that neither thought much of this turn of events, and pushed on as if it were the norm.

Sam welcome the hot water, content to stand under the gentle flow of the first shower he'd had in a month with pressure, but he barely made it under the shower head, and this was infuriating enough for him to finally turn off the water and take his leave.

Dressed and almost ready, Sam slipped Ruby's knife into his back pocket where it belonged, and went to find a clean over-shirt. Ruby appeared by his side, still half-dressed, although her hair was now dry.

"If we do find these demons today, we're going to have to plan how we taken them out. There's no use storming in there when you can only work your magic on one at a time, and I'm pretty sure they're not going to wait patiently."

"I know, Ruby," Sam huffed, exasperated. "We're been doing this for a while. And you know, it wouldn't be too much if you cleaned up after yourself behind the scene too. You seem to be taking over my bag too." Sam pulled a few of her things from the depths of his bag, pushing a pink undergarment down beside the bed.

There was a knock at the door, and Sam let Ruby get it as he returned to the bathroom, retrieving the small, golden amulet and placing it around his neck.

------------------------------

_**A.N.//** So this story is supposed to fill in the 4 lost months while Dean was in Hell. I finished this final chapter at the moment that Dean & Bobby knocked at the door in the episode 4x01, so i've tried to completely fill in the time we missed out on. Lots of fun to write, and i hope i get more ideas like it soon =D Thankyou to everybody to read and reviewed! I really appreciate it. You guys all rule!_


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